Heathens
by TheDescension
Summary: The crook, the assassin and their tales. (Or, drabbles through time.)


I was introduced to the world of fanfiction through _Power Rangers_ and it was one of the main reasons why I started writing in the first place. There used to be this thing years ago in the _Power Rangers_ fandom called the Ars Amatoria Ranger Romance Themes Challenge. There were sixty prompts in all and drabbles were written centred around those themes for a specific couple.

So I wanted to write something for CaptainCanary and thought I could use those prompts. Of late, I have been writing stuff that has been bordering on being a little too depressing so for a change, I thought I would do something that would be happy and light. Hence, this one is devoid of angst and is completely fluffy. I don't know how the other chapters will play out though.

Every chapter will have a different setting and this one is set somewhere in between Season One. Chapter title is the theme.

As I said, there are sixty themes to this and I can't promise regular updates but I'll try my best. I do not own _Legends of Tomorrow_ quite clearly. Enjoy!

* * *

 **1\. Impression**

* * *

"What's the status down there?" Rip's voice comes booming through Sara's comm and forces her to tear her gaze from the woman in black who she had been surreptitiously eyeing for the last hour.

"It's under control," she says.

"There's hardly anything to be controlled. It's a deadbeat party filled with far too many people you won't let me rob," Leonard speaks from her side, taking a sip of the drink in his hand. His words come out in his habitual drawl that almost always elicits a roll of the eyes from Sara, and had she not known him this well, she would have believed he was genuinely bored and uninterested in their current mission but she can detect the amusement on his face, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips and she knows he isn't as averse to the situation as he makes out to be.

"I'm elated to know that you have been following my instructions, Mr. Snart," Rip mutters on the other end, the annoyance audible in his voice.

"You might want to rein that in, Hunter. If Savage's lackey doesn't show up in the next ten minutes and I don't get to rob him, I swear I'll pickpocket every dimwit in this place."

"Bloody hell." Sara hears an exasperated sigh after which their line goes dead.

"Captain successfully annoyed," she laughs, her eyes wandering as the woman in black disappears into another room.

"You're welcome," he says with another sip of the drink. "And you're not being as discreet as you think you're being."

"What?" she splutters, glancing at him in horror.

 _He surely couldn't have noticed._

"Can't blame you though," he continues, a cheeky grin on his face as he pays no heed to her panic stricken face and looks around the room, not looking at her. "Blonde hair, smart mouth, I don't see why she wouldn't have made an impression on you."

Sara blinks at him stupidly, suddenly feeling like a kid who has been caught with her hand inside the cookie jar. She blinks again and only when he turns to look at her, smugness written all over his face, does she remember that she is supposed to come up with a retort to put him back in his place; that's the way it works. "You don't get to talk about being discreet, asshole. It's not like you are an expert at checking me out without me knowing."

His smirk falters and Sara feels childish puerile satisfaction bubbling inside her. She braces herself for the sarcastic snarky comeback but Savage's man decides to show up at that instant and they are forced to abandon their little game of words and drag themselves to the job in hand.

* * *

Not too long after when they have the tech Savage was after securely placed inside the Waverider's safes, he tells her, "Pity you never got to talk to that lovely lady in black, assassin."

Sara doesn't even resist the urge to roll her eyes and smiles at him a little too innocently. "Seems to me she made more of an impression on you than she made on me."

He sighs, perhaps a little too dramatically, and then quirks a smile at her, lopsided and so utterly him. And just as she thinks that she has won this round and has left him failing to come up with a caustic retort, he drawls, "What can I say? Turns out pretty women with blonde hair and smart mouths have been making quite the impression on me recently."


End file.
